


Chlorinated

by selwyn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Oral Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: “Shouldn’t you be at school?”Mr. Graves’ question brought Markus out of his heat-dazed reverie. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and breathed in the over-chlorinated air to wake up. The humidity sat heavily on his lungs like a wet, warm towel. His pool float moved a little as Markus kicked a few small splashes into the water.“It’s too hot,” he complained. School? His school wasn’t the kind to have air-conditioning – or even working windows – and it was over 40-fucking-degrees. Being in his rich neighbor’s pool sounded way better.





	Chlorinated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Billywick (Eisengrave)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisengrave/gifts).



> I do not actually condone adults in relationships with minors.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Mr. Graves’ question brought Markus out of his heat-dazed reverie. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and breathed in the over-chlorinated air to wake up. The humidity sat heavily on his lungs like a wet, warm towel. His pool float moved a little as Markus kicked a few small splashes into the water.

“It’s too hot,” he complained. School? His school wasn’t the kind to have air-conditioning – or even working windows – and it was over 40-fucking-degrees. Being in his rich neighbor’s pool sounded way better.

Mr. Graves leaned over his balcony and overlooked his spacious backyard with its perfect garden, terraformed patio, and lagoon-blue pool. He had nothing on but silk pajama bottoms and a thin robe, both of which probably cost more than the shit-fuck trailer that Markus lived in, and he was smoking. A little shot glass perched on the balcony railing next to him. It was too hot and his forehead shone with a thin sheen of sweat.

Markus pushed his sunglasses up over his damaged hair. He had gotten it at the local drugstore – 0.99, heart-shaped, the red, shiny, and cheap kind of plastic that matched him. He pushed his tongue against his teeth as he kicked himself into the little bit of shade under the faintly-swaying palm tree that dominated one side of Mr. Graves’ yard. He wiped his brow. It was sticky and hot, and he grimaced as he dipped his hand into the pool water.

“Join me,” Markus called.

“No,” Mr. Graves said. He smoked idly. His eyes were obscured by shades, so Markus couldn’t tell if he was looking at him, at the trailer park that surrounded his home, or something else entirely.

“Come on,” Markus whined. He reached over and took a loud sip of his Slurpy; it was nearly done and the bottom of the cup made an irritating sucking noise. It was lukewarm and over-sweet now, but he kept it up to see how Mr. Graves’ brow twitched with a hint of annoyance. “Mr. Graves.”

He ignored him and tapped ash onto his crystal ashtray.

“Percy!”

Finally, Mr. Graves looked down. He looked disapproving. “Don’t.”

“What – call you by your first name?” A lascivious smile crossed Markus’ face. “You liked it last night when I –“

“Markus.”

The quelling tone made Markus stop, but he continued to smile. He dropped his shades back down so Mr. Graves wouldn’t see the black eye he’d hidden under his mom’s concealer. It had come from an ill-advised fight – who knew Payne had such a hard right hook? One moment Markus had been making fun of his dumbass boyfriend, the next, Markus had been flat on his back with Payne ready to rip out his piercings with his teeth.

At least Momus and his weird friends had been there for him. Going on a roadtrip, Momus had said, something about clearing his head and figuring out what he wanted to do. Markus hadn’t paid it much mind, being more concerned with how Mr. Graves would react.

They’d done it in the dark last night, so he couldn’t have noticed anything amiss, and Markus had gotten out of bed before him. Things were fine.

“You should have gone to school,” Mr. Graves finally said. As Markus watched, he crushed the butt of his cigarette into his ashtray and breathed out the last wisp of thin, grey smoke. “Earn your education.”

Markus snorted. An education? What good was it going to do for him? He lived in Shinglehill, Florida, the shittiest piss-and-shit town that could possibly exist in this swampy excuse for a state. A diploma from his local high school was only useful as toilet paper. “Nah.”

“You’re in twelfth grade,” Mr. Graves persisted. “You’re going to graduate soon.”

“Mm. Yeah. So?”

“What’re you going to do when you graduate? You need a job.”

“Well, I still have you.” Markus bit his lip lazily as he prodded the fresh purple hickey on his neck. “I figure I’m fine.”

“That’s not how life works.”

“You sure?” Markus had a whole closetful of new clothes, a new phone and laptop, and a car that could testify otherwise. Mr. Graves was the gift that kept on giving. “Come down. Join me.”

Mr. Graves gave him a look and Markus nearly expected another denial but instead, the man merely sighed before he slowly walked to the stairs that led down from his balcony to the yard. Markus tracked his progress, enjoyed the flash of his bare chest in the scorching sunlight, but Mr. Graves didn’t step into the pool with him. He sat down on one of the sun chairs instead, comfortable under the shade of the parasol.

Markus would have liked to see Mr. Graves slip into the water with him. He would have splashed his face, traced the sides of his body under the water – probably jerk him off in the water while he complained about how unsanitary and unsafe it was.

It was probably why he didn’t come into the water. Markus kind of liked that; he knew him well enough to predict him. That was, like, something people did in relationships, right?

Markus took his shades off and slipped off his float. He disappeared under the water and swam towards the side of the pool that Mr. Graves lounged, and reappeared at the edge.

He was watching him. Markus basked in it as he slicked his hair back, feeling the slow, physical slide of Mr. Graves’ gaze down his face, his neck. When Markus grabbed the step railings and used them to pull himself out, he felt how much more hungry his gaze got. He enjoyed it as he stretched the moment out until he had all of Mr. Graves’ attention.

Markus sauntered over to him. He left droplets of water on the terracotta that sizzled into dryness.

Markus joined Mr. Graves on his chair and smiled as he plucked his sunglasses off his face. He curled up into his warm, dry side, left damp patches on his clothes, and pressed into him until they were kissing. Mr. Graves settled his arm around Markus’ waist familiarly and no matter how disinterested he had acted before, he still licked into his mouth like he could have fucked Markus then and there.

Markus happily yielded as he dragged his hand down his chest until he could push it below Mr. Graves’ underwear and wrap it around his dick. He managed to give him one good stroke before Mr. Graves’ hand clamped around his wrist, stopping him.

 _Ugh._ “Really?” Markus pulled back.

“Not out here,” Mr. Graves said, because he could fuck the brains out of a high schooler half his age, but only _inside._ Markus wanted to make a snippy comment, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. The last time he’d pulled out that card, Mr. Graves had kicked him out of his house for a week and went through some kind of middle-aged crisis. While the ass-eating he’d gotten as apology had been _great,_ the week doing nothing but sitting in the junkyard had sucked.

“Fine,” Markus grumbled. “Let’s go.”

They walked back into the house and honestly, it was probably the biggest indicator of how much Mr. Graves spoiled Markus that he was getting bored of being fucked inside this place. It was a mansion, as out of place in Shinglehill as a black sheep in a white herd. Markus twirled around one of the giant marble columns and almost managed to sneak out a bottle from Mr. Graves’ liquor cabinet before the man caught him around the waist and pulled him into the master bedroom.

Markus laughed as he allowed himself to be reeled along. Mr. Graves sat down on the edge of his bed and Markus dropped to his knees in front of him. He pulled down his robe as he went and Mr. Graves bent forward so they could kiss briefly.

Markus pulled at his pajama bottoms and underwear hungrily. He shimmied them down over his hips, over his thighs, until they fell down around Mr. Graves’ ankles, and made an appreciative noise as his cock came free, already hard.

Markus leaned forward and licked him with the tip of his tongue. His eyes flicked upward as Mr. Graves grunted and he saw that he was watching him, his dark eyes hooded and hazy. The corner of Markus’ mouth tilted up as he maintained eye contact and swallowed his cock down as deeply as he could.

Mr. Graves’ hand found its way to Markus’ hair. When the tip of his cock met the back of his throat, his hand tightened, and Markus hollowed his cheek as he sucked down on him. He watched him lazily through half-shut eyes, and relished the low, guttural groan that he finally pulled out of Mr. Graves’ proud and silent lips.

Markus moved leisurely. He slid his hands up the rigid lines of the man’s calves, over his knees, and stroked the tense lines of muscle on either side of his thighs. There was an imperceptible tremble to them as Mr. Graves fought to keep them steady, and Markus squeezed him before he slowly brought his head back.

The hand in his hair tightened. For a moment, Markus wondered if Mr. Graves would shove him back on his dick. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. He waited for a tense moment, expectant, but the grip on his hair slowly loosened until he could move again.

Markus pulled off his cock with a slick pop, but didn’t move away. Mr. Graves’ dick lay heavily on his lips as Markus blinked, and the man tensed so much that Markus snickered.

“You’re teasing,” Mr. Graves said. He tried to reach for a level tone but he breathed too hard to pull it off. His thumb rubbed slow circles into the back of Markus’ head. “Markus –“

Markus licked him again, then wrapped his hand around the base of his dick. “Do you still have that lube?”

“Do you need it?” Mr. Graves asked. He pulled Markus up onto his lap. “You didn’t shower this morning.”

“I was in the pool,” Markus said. He sat down and ground himself against Mr. Graves’ thigh with a low sigh. “Same… same thing.”

“Not really,” Mr. Graves replied. He squeezed Markus’ backside again and Markus pushed back into him, considering his unsaid suggestion even though it was incredibly stupid. “We can try.”

“You’re a dirty old man,” Markus accused even as he bucked his hips against the man’s thigh and put a hand on his dick through his underwear. “Just say we’ve done worse with less.”

Mr. Graves smiled. He had a good smile, one that managed to lift his too-serious face, and Markus couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him. “There was the gas station…”

“You fucked me at that fancy restaurant you took me to.”

“I did,” he conceded. “But you started it with your hand under the table.”

Markus snickered again. He remembered that; his hand on Mr. Graves’ dick, jerking him off, and the man doing his best to pretend that nothing was happening. What had even started that?

“The waiter said I was your son,” Markus recalled. “Remember that? You did it right after they congratulated us, gross.”

“You planned it,” Mr. Graves pointed out. He tugged down Markus’ underwear with one sharp yank. Mr. Graves moved a finger against him, testing how ready he was after being fucked last night.

“Well, yeah,” Markus admitted with a shaky smile. “Wanted to see if you’d do it. But there’s also that time you fucked me at school – _mmph.”_

The rest of his words got cut off as Mr. Graves pushed his finger into him. Markus tensed up before he forced himself to relax. He still squirmed as Mr. Graves sunk two knuckles deep into him and his head lowered to rest on his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” Mr. Graves asked.

“N-No,” Markus said, eyes closed. It was a tight fit, yeah, but it didn’t hurt. The concern in the man’s voice washed away the tiny burn there was, and Markus pushed back against him until Mr. Graves got the hint. One finger wasn’t prep – it didn’t even count, but Markus was suddenly too impatient to wait. He wanted to feel every inch of him.

“Please,” he said before Mr. Graves could tell him otherwise. “I want you, please.”

“Markus…” Mr. Graves started, but he was a sucker for begging. He always was; it was pretty much how Markus could convince him to fuck in the unlikeliest places.

Markus leaned forward, his arms slung around his shoulders, and pressed his lips to his ear. “Percy,” he said. He enjoyed the full-body shudder that sent through Mr. Graves. “Please. Fuck me.”

His sigh told him he won. They rolled over and Markus ended up on the bed this time. He wiggled against the Egyptian cotton sheets and their gazillion-count thread, and laughed when Mr. Graves settled between his legs, his dick already pushing against Markus’ ass.

God, he liked to pretend otherwise, but once you got the man going -!

“Fuck!” Markus hissed when he was pinned against the bed. “Percy, ow –“

Percy didn’t wait for him to finish. He held Markus in place as he thrust into him, and maybe Markus had been too eager when he’d decided he didn’t need to mess around with lube before they started this. Percy grabbed his knees and spread them and Markus didn’t have any leverage to push against as he was opened up. Legs splayed, he panted as he tried to take him.

It took some working before Percy could fit in all the way, and it was still a strain. Markus wriggled under him as he tried to get comfortable, but it felt like he was only taking him deeper. His hands fisted the sheets as he tried to pull his knees close, but Percy didn’t let go.

The burn was fiercer this time, almost overwhelming, but that was the point. It was always the point for doing this; there was something about being under this man - older than him, stronger than him, someone who could probably buy his life a dozen times over – and getting fucked into the mattress, that was addictive. Markus craved the rush of it. The school, the restaurant, here, in Mr. Graves’ fancy mansion – it was all so dirty. Percy liked him too young and feckless, liked to buy him nice things and then fuck him raw, and Markus liked him for liking that.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, God – Percy, please, fuck –“ he babbled as he rocked against him, clenched around his cock, and Mr. Graves finally moved. He fucked him open, until Markus began to keen under him, and kept going past that. This was the best part of it. It was when Mr. Graves –Percy – finally let go of his inhibitions and fucked Markus like he meant it.

Markus yelled himself hoarse when he came. “Mr. Graves,” he said, a little quiet at first, and the spasm of pleasure that came over him made his voice shake in an embarrassing, uncontrolled way. “Mr. Graves!”

He tightened around Percy and the drag of his cock as he rode his orgasm was a special kind of torture, one that made Markus gasp and curl up his toes as he tried to move back and failed. He writhed left, then right, tried to decrease the sensation to something he could handle, and failed.

But Percy wouldn’t let him get away. He followed Markus, stayed with him, chasing after his own high with a single-minded determination, and Markus couldn’t think straight. Pleasure-addled and done, he was just happy to lay back and savor the thick cock inside of him.

After what felt like hours – but probably was just minutes – Percy groaned and shuddered on top of him with his own orgasm. He groaned something that could have been Markus’ name and stayed there for a few seconds, because he’d always been a dirty old man who had some kind of thing for coming in his ass.

Markus sighed when Percy rolled off of him. He shivered around the new emptiness in him, sweaty all over again, and just tried to catch his breath.

They lied together like that for a minute. Markus almost drifted off when he felt a finger down his chest. He opened an eye and saw Mr. Graves examining one of his latest tattoos. “Like it?” he asked.

“It’s cute,” he said. The rose was only half-done – Markus would need at least three more sessions before the whole was finished. As it was, the inked bramble spread across half his chest. It was the fanciest one he’d ever gotten and at a good place too – nothing like Gar’s crappy little parlor. All on Mr. Graves’ dime, of course.

“It’s cool,” Markus corrected hazily. “I want another one too. Like… a sick-ass snake. I bet you’d like that.”

“How much?” Mr. Graves asked and there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice. Markus felt a new surge of affection in his chest, because fuck, _fuck,_ there weren’t a lot of people in his life who wouldn’t only do that for him, but do it without a single question.

“A thousand?” Markus said with a shrug. “I mean, the roses cost seven-fifty and the snake’ll be about the same size, except I don’t know if they’ll ask for more for the detail work –“

“A thousand,” Mr. Graves just repeated. “You can show it to me then.”

“Yeah,” Markus sighed. He reached up to touch his nipple. “Maybe I could get a piercing too.”

“On your nipple?”

“You could be the first one to play with them.”

“Only one,” Mr. Graves sighed, and Markus flashed back to another one of their risky flings; it had been during some fancy gala here at Casa Graves, and Markus’ shirt had been bunched around his chin while Mr. Graves’ mouth was on his nipple and Markus had jerked him off while Mr. Graves fingered him. It had been early on in their thing, back before Markus started spending the night.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He reached over and grabbed a towel to clean his sticky chest off. “I’m kinda hungry,” he said. “Let’s go into town for lunch.”

“You just had breakfast,” Mr. Graves said. He grabbed Markus’ discarded towel and did the same.

“Yeah,” Markus agreed. “But I’m hungry again. Take me somewhere nice in the Jaguar.”

The Jaguar was the flashiest car that Mr. Graves owned, and at least seventy-five percent of the blame was on Markus. He planned on gaining ownership of it as soon as he got his driver’s license in the spring.

“Where?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Somewhere nice. Maybe we can get a hotel.”

“My house is available,” Mr. Graves said. He sounded a little exasperated and maybe he was right. Markus _liked_ spending his money, though they both knew now that he’d come here even if he wasn’t allowed to spend a single cent.

“Yeah,” Markus said. “But we could act like a real couple outside of here. You could fuck me on the beach.”

“You have school.”

“True.” He laughed. “But you know I’m going to skip anyway. So why don’t you pick the best option and fuck me somewhere fancy?”

Mr. Graves just sighed and gave no answer. Markus grinned at his exasperation and kissed it off of his face, and peppered him with kisses until he agreed to get in the bath with him.


End file.
